Every day this month i’ll be writing 140 characters of fiction (actually 135, because of the space and hashtag) on Twitter.

The easiest way to find my posts is by clicking here.

I’ve decided to tell one story over the course of the month. Originally I thought I’d just post separate story chunks, but then a wonderful idea struck me. Follow Sih in a strange, micro adventure.

If you have no clue what I’m walking about, check my previous Nano WriMo post.

You see, the trilogy was released for free in podcast format in 2006-2007. Now St. Martins press is releasing the first book in paperback format at the end of October.

Trust me. You want to buy and read this book. You also want to listen to 7th Son: 7 Days, and I’m not just saying that because a particular person you may know (me) makes an appearance as a villain in the first story!

Can’t wait to get your grubby hands on the book? Head over to his site and start grabbing the NEW podiobook release of Descent right now! J.C has already started releasing the new recordings for you enjoyment. Why? Because he’s the fucking man. So do him a favor for being so awesome and buy 7th Son: Descent on October 27th. If we all do, St Martins press is sure to pickup the other 2 books for print.

He lay on the ground broken and battered, both physically and emotionally. Who was this boy who came and utterly destroyed everything Harn had known to be true? All the constants. Everything that had always been the same shattered in an instant. His anger rose. He tried to rise and strike out, but the young man subdued him easily once again.

Daren stood over Harn , calm expression on his face, hand held with palm outstretched. “Get up,” he said “This is over.”

Harn took his hand and slowly rose to his feet, unable to look Daren in the eye.

Somewhere in the distance, Grey looked on amazed. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. Daren had taken down Harn, the most powerful being in the entire world. Where his plans going to fail after all? He couldn’t understand how Daren could be so powerful, yet not want to use his power. Why would this man want to be normal?

Grey shook the thought out of this head. Let us play out this ruse a little longer, he thought, and see where it takes us.

He hated rush deliveries. Hated them with a passion. A rush delivery meant he couldn’t use his scooter, couldn’t enjoy the breeze in his hair as he sped through the city streets to whatever destination. No. rush deliveries meant he had to fly. Fly between the buildings, over the roads, where everyone would stop and stare as he went by. Cheers and gasps would rise from the crowds below.

Rush deliveries sucked.

5 minutes after receiving notice, Daren had the package and was standing in front of the addressee’s door. A quick knock was all it took to bring his target to the door. The man looked young, maybe in his mid twenties. He was around 5’8″, thick, but not fat, with dark brown hair, and a beard. He introduced himself as Tip. Daren handed the package over, and pulled out his tablet for the man to sign. As he was doing this, he noticed the man’s pants.

Damn, those were some fine pants. Daren couldn’t help but stare. The cut was flawless, and the simple pants seemed to radiate style. As if Tip got this a lot, he smiled. “You like these? I just whipped these up this morning.” Daren was shocked. “You made these?” “Of course. I make all my pants.”

Daren felt a little silly. Never in his life had he marveled at a pair of pants, but here he was. He just couldn’t help himself. He shook his head to try and clear it. Turning to leave, he bade Tip a good day. Without thinking, he took off and flew up into the air. It wasn’t until he was halfway back to his office that he noticed the initials signed on his tablet.

T.H.P.

Daren stopped in mid air, jaw gaping. It all clicked…

The Human Pantaloness.

—

Tip had followed Daren with his eyes until he was out of sight. He then shut the door and turned around. “Is he the one?”

“Yes. He’s the one.” Harn answered.

Standing about 6’2″, Harn was the poster boy for perfection.  His teeth where so white, they sparkled.  His chiseled features, matched with an olive tone skin, only helped to accentuate his piercing, grey eyes.  His hair never seemed out of place, even when flying faster than the speed of sound.  The gray creeping into his hair as he had aged had only made him more handsome.

Yes.  Harn was utter perfection.  His only weakness?  His temper.

While Harn was the nicest man you’d ever meet.  Get on his bad side, and you’d not be long in this world.

For all the babies he kissed, damsels he’d rescued, and good ‘ol boys he’d meet at the bar, get in Harn’s way, and there’d be nothing left to identify your body.

What I’m posting here is the unedited version. This still needs to be reread, edited, and cleaned up.

Syre the Wise.

What I’m posting here is the unedited version. This still needs to be reread, edited, and cleaned up.

The Memory Grounds.

These stories still need a TON of editing, and I’ll be cutting a bunch out of this one.

What I’m posting here is the unedited version. This still needs to be reread, edited, and cleaned up.

Mira the Shattered.

What I’m posting here is the unedited version. This still needs to be reread, edited, and cleaned up.

Kaite the Weeper.

She just knew Joey was going to LOVE this present. After wracking her mind for hours, endlessly pacing the mall, the idea had struck her.

A puppy.

A yellow lab to be exact. After a short credit check, Marsha was out the door with a cardboard carrier in hand. There was no way she could screw this one up. Her little Joey would be so happy come tomorrow morning.

That night she left the puppy in the bathroom of her small apartment. She would box him up early in the morning, before Joey’s dad dropped him off. She tossed and turned all night, the anticipation keeping her awake.

6AM arrived, and Marsha left out of her bed. Joey would arrive in an hour. Grabbing a large enough box, she carefully placed the puppy inside and taped the lid shut. She wrapped the gift, placing a neat bow on top.

Pausing, she thought she forgot something the pet store owner had told her. Remembering, she grabbed a knife from the kitchen. The puppy needed air holes in the box. She repeatedly stabbed the knife into the box, twisting it to form large enough holes.

Suddenly she felt wetness where she knelt.

Oh no…

She had forgotten to put newspaper in the box. The puppy must have tinkled.

Just then the door swung open. Without looking at the box, Marsha turned and yelled, “Merry Christmas, sweetie!”, and stepped aside revealing the box.

Joey shrieked as his father led him back out the door.

“Dear God, Marsha.”